


low fidelity: tales of fidel

by Aburielle



Category: Original Work, low fidelity
Genre: Bakery and Coffee Shop, Café, Chill Vibes, Chinese Tea Ceremony, Coffee, Coffee Shops, Diners, Other, POV Second Person, Relax - Freeform, Relaxation, Tea, Tea Ceremony, Vintage Bar, Vintage diner, Warm, soft vibes, warm vibes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:41:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25995400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aburielle/pseuds/Aburielle
Summary: A series of short stories taking place in the city of Fidel, a sleepy setting inspired by lo-fi soundtracks, relaxing ambience, and soothing traditional music.Every story is unique, with no linear plotline. Start anywhere, and see where the world of Fidel takes you.
Kudos: 2





	1. low fidelity: the café

It had been a long day. Stress was piling up over the last couple months, and you thought you were about to lose it before going home early today. The night was cold and biting, punishing you for wearing such thin clothes in early winter. You rush for a place to warm up, finding a nearby café that was still open, despite the late hours. You come in, immediately feeling the warmth of the café embrace you, the caffeinated scent filling your nose. There are tables and chairs, along with bean bags, pillows, blankets, plushies and fluffy rugs on the floor, along with a fireplace crackling and a bookshelf filled with plenty of books to read. And of course, there was the bar where you ordered a cup of coffee and a complimentary snack to go with it, with the barista smiling behind the counter.

"Welcome!" the barista chimed. You stand there, silent for a couple moments, before mentally facepalming yourself and greeting the barista. "Uh… hi," you say as you awkwardly walk towards the counter. The barista holds a pen and notepad. "Can I take your order?" they ask. You quickly glance over the menu, trying to decide what to get as quickly as possible. "Um… some hot cocoa, please. And some biscuits to go with it," you say. The barista nods and goes to prepare your order. You go and choose to find a place to sit as you wait for your order.

You decide to sit by the fire. You approach the fireplace, taking off your shoes as the sign beside it requested, to not dirty the rug, you supposed. You warm yourself up by the fire, wrapping yourself in a blanket and snuggling with a plushie, getting comfortable. Suddenly, you hear your name being called, for your order is ready. You reluctantly get out of your blanket to go get your hot cocoa and biscuits, then come back to the fireplace. You set your food on a small table, and wrap yourself in the blankets again, holding your plushie.

You try to drink the hot cocoa, wincing a bit from it's heat. You blow on it to cool it down, and drink again, feeling the rich liquid run down your throat and warm your insides. Satisfied, you dip a biscuit in the cocoa, and eat it. The crackling of the fire, the gentle music, the softness of the blankets, the taste of the cocoa and biscuits, the wooden smell combined with coffee, and the warm, soft lighting of the café was all starting to lull you to sleep. It was all so warm and soft… you couldn't help it. Your worries seemed to melt away, and you felt safe and at peace… like you couldn't be anywhere else. And so, you slowly dozed off into a peaceful, dreamless sleep…

~

You wake up with the sunlight filtering through the window, cracking your eyes open. You rub the gunk out of your eyes, and see that you're still in the café… the café! Apparently, you fell asleep there and no one woke you up. The barista insisted they didn't mind when you apologized for it, saying that it was common for customers to fall asleep here, and are typically undisturbed. You found that you even had a 'Do Not Disturb!' sign on your table. You thank them for their service, give the barista a large tip, and head out. You find that you're feeling well-rested, too.

You're definitely coming there again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this short story!
> 
> Comment how this story made you feel.


	2. low fidelity: the chinese tearoom

You are in Fidel’s Eastern Wing, or more specifically, “Chinatown.” The Eastern Wing referred to the Asian shops and hotels, while Chinatown referred to the Chinese-specific ones. You are in a tea house; it is raining outside. The air is thick with the scent of herbal tea, and the native music and Mandarin chatter hums in your ears. You have come to witness a tea ceremony, which will start very soon. The Yixing teaware was set up and waiting with you to start. Finally, a woman came and sat in front of you; she will be initiating the ceremony.

First, she took a wooden ladle filled with water, and gracefully poured it over the small teapot, rinsing it. Then, she poured some water inside the teapot, held it, and gently swirled it around. She then poured some water out, the bamboo tea bed collecting the water. Then, she poured some in a small pitcher, which she then poured into three small teacups. You were not going to drink this tea; it was for curing the teapot, was it not? She poured the rest of the water out of the pitcher, setting it down carefully.

With one graceful sweep of her hand, she took a wooden scoop and scooped up some tea out of a glass jar and gently filled the teapot ¼ of the way with tea. She set the scoop and jar aside and paused for a moment, when a young-looking girl came with a kettle in her hands. She gave it to the woman, they thanked her briefly, and she hurried off. The woman poured the water into the teapot and closed it. She picked it up and gently swirled it again… then poured it all out. You were a little confused. Although you did research on the subject, you couldn’t help wondering why she did that, as that was not what happened in the demonstration. A voice in you says ‘what a waste of tea,’ but you swat the thought away. You figure that it was a different style of curing the teapot, and that not every ceremony is the same.

The woman picks up the teacups, and one by one, gently swirls them around before pouring the water out onto the tea bed, before carefully putting them down. She then takes a funnel and puts in in the pitcher from before, and pours the tea in. To filter out the tea leaves, you figure. She takes out the funnel and sets it aside, then takes the pitcher and pours the tea in each of the three cups. She sets two out for you, and takes one cup for herself. You offer her one of your cups, but she refuses, saying that one cup is enough for her. The ceremony is complete.

You enjoy your tea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this short story!
> 
> Tell me if there are any inaccuracies about the tea ceremony, and I will try to improve upon them next time.


	3. low fidelity: the vintage/retro 50's-style bar

It was a long, stressful day. You were tired, and wanted a break. So you went to your favorite vintage/retro 50’s-style diner. It was a strange diner. By day, it was run-down and empty, a hollow shell of what was once there. But by night, the diner came to life, and chairs and tables and a whole bar appears out of thin air.

Not many people go there. Lots of people don’t want to go there. They say it gives off creepy vibes, or that it’s haunted, or that it’s cursed, and that you definitely shouldn’t go there at night, which is the time that the diner was typically open. It was a bit of an urban legend. But you don’t care. You don’t care about the time it opens, or what’s wrong with it. Maybe you don’t even belong there. But that doesn’t matter; they haven’t kicked you out  _ yet _ . All you want is to finish your dinner in peace and quiet.

You open the door, the slightly-broken chime ringing throughout the diner. The colors of the diner are desaturated pinks, muted blues and yellowed whites. Lo-fi remixes of old songs play on the jukebox, and the TV box plays early morning cartoons and the news, which was ironic for a diner that opened at night. You sat at your usual spot: the booth near the window that advertised the diner. A menu and pen were placed on the table by no one. You ordered by circling what you wanted on the menu. You were allowed to write comments about additional items you want on or with your order. So you circle your usual order: eggs cooked sunny side up, soft bacon, a plain bagel with cream cheese, and a decaf coffee.

Once you’re done, a black cat comes from behind the bar and grabs your order and pen with its teeth, and walks back to the bar. The jukebox changes its music to happy retro cooking music. You tap your fingers in rhythm with the jazzy, upbeat tune. Fifteen minutes later, the cat returns pulling a tray of your order on a wagon, and rolls up to you. You take the tray and set it on the table, and take out a can of cat food. You open the can and put it on the wagon, and the cat happily trots away, the music returning to lo-fi remixes of old songs again. That has been your form of payment since a couple days ago. The diner doesn’t accept any money for some reason, so you feed the cat instead. You take a bite out of your bagel with cream cheese and start thinking back on your experiences in the diner.

There used to be far more anomalies happening: seeing shadows in the corner of your eye, reflections in the window, paintings that moved and rearranged themselves and always seemed to be watching you with intent, strange creatures would walk by outside and fill you with paralyzing fear. Sudden loud noises and screaming from the jukebox would pierce the air. Sometimes chairs and cutlery were thrown across the room at random, and the fire alarm would go off, setting off the sprinklers. You were about to never come to the diner again. But ever since you started feeding the cat, the anomalies had stopped. The diner was quieter and much more peaceful. The paintings were relaxed and the strange creatures still walked by, but gave off much less ominous vibes, and now feel like regular people passing by, perhaps on their way to work. So you keep feeding the cat waiter every night to keep the peace.

You hear thunder outside. It had started raining. The pitter-patter of rain on the windows and rumbling thunder soothes you, and makes you feel nostalgic for some reason, like thinking back on a time that you never experienced. The mixed taste of bacon and eggs, paired with a bagel with cream cheese, washed down by decaf coffee as you sit alone in the empty diner, the still air, the old lo-fi music, and the TV playing. It felt surreal.

You finish your meal and head for the door, cursing yourself for just realizing that you didn’t bring your umbrella. But just when you prepare yourself to brave the weather, an umbrella appears beside you. You look around to see who left it, but there’s no one around. You hesitantly pick it up, and it bears a note:

_ For You _

_ Thank You for Always Visiting~ _

You exit the diner, open the umbrella to put it over your head, and start to walk home.


End file.
